Captain's Quest: Soul Searching
by DavidW
Summary: Jean-Luc Picard and Ambassodor Spock assemble an unorthodox team and set forth on a mission to bring Captain Kirk back from the dead. This saga bears no relation to William Shatner's Star Trek novels. Takes place prior to the events in Star Trek: Nemesi
1. Default Chapter

Disclaimer: Star Trek is owned by Paramount Pictures, which is owned by Viacom. My use of the Star Trek universe is for entertainment only, thus I make no claims of ownership of their property.

Captains' Quest: Soul Searching

by

David Weathers

Begin Chapter One

Picard grasped two faux china cups filled with recently replicated tea - one, Earl Grey, hot and the other, herbal green, cold - and turned to face the visitor seated in his ready room. The distinguished looking elder Vulcan regarded him quietly as Picard crossed the small room and held out the herbal tea. His guest took the tea and sipped it. Picard set his own tea down on a small table and dropped into a chair opposite the Vulcan.

The space faring Frenchman smiled over at the other. "So, Spock, my friend, to what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?"

The elder man steepled his long fingers; his already serious face grew even more so. "I have come to ask a favor of you, Captain Picard."

"Jean-Luc."

"Very well. I require a favor from you, Jean-Luc."

The bald human's face mirrored his friend's graveness. He knew that Ambassador Spock would not interrupt his important work on Vulcan/Romulan reunification and travel across several sectors of deep space unless there was something important to be accomplished. "I am listening."

"May I be succinct?"

"By all means."

Spock gazed thoughtfully ahead, sipping his green tea, composing his words before he actually spoke. "Jean-Luc, a number of years ago, you buried the body of my friend and former captain, James Kirk, on Veridian III."

"A very sad duty," Picard recalled quietly.

The Vulcan nodded. "Indeed. The news of Jim's death has since weighed heavily upon me."

"Well, as you stated, you were friends and served together. I knew him only briefly, yet I certainly felt a keen sense of loss."

Ambassador Spock set his tea cup down on the table in front of him. He looked out the narrow window at the stars streaking by. "It's more than mourning. I believe that Kirk was not meant to die there."

Picard set his own cup down. "What do you mean?"

Spock returned his gaze to the captain. "You are familiar with the V'Ger incident." It was not a question.

"But of course. It is an historic event that every Federation school child learns about. The mission logs are required reading at Starfleet Academy. The Enterprise and her crew saved the earth from a colossal living machine, which turned out to be a hybrid of the ancient probe Voyager 6 returning home in search of its creator."

His famous guest nodded. "And if you studied the mission logs, then you would know that I achieved a brief mind meld with the awesome consciousness that V'Ger had evolved. The intensity of information that poured through that telepathic link was indescribable. The hybrid probe had ranged extensively throughout the universe and amassed vast knowledge. 

"What V'Ger ultimately lacked, if you recall, was an emotional context with which to frame its intellect. It needed to go beyond sheer logic and data to be able to comprehend the existence of abstract concepts that it had acquired, but failed to comprehend."

Picard said, "Our own Mr. Data has struggled with such comprehension his entire life."

"I was raised on Vulcan, bred to logic. I, too, have had difficulty with less tangible ideas such as philosophy, religion, humor, and emotion. V'Ger had a million times the intellect of either myself or Lieutenant Commander Data, yet it had less than a billionth of our ability to comprehend the irrational or illogical."

The captain asked, "What does this have to do with the death of Jim Kirk on Veridian III, if you will excuse my impatience?"

"Two of the concepts that V'Ger had amassed a lot of information on, though little understanding of, were the future and the afterlife."

"The future and the afterlife?" Picard asked. He felt himself frowning. Just where was all of this leading?

"Correct. V'Ger tended to gather information by physically absorbing, or assimilating, objects and life forms that it encountered. Much like the Borg, the knowledge of whatever the probe hybrid assimilated became part of it. Some of those objects and life forms thus absorbed were capable of seeing into the future or onto other planes of existence."

"I see," Picard commented, though he wasn't entirely sure that he did.

Both of the elder Vulcan's brows rose. "I understand that you might have trouble accepting much of this at face value. Do not forget, Jean-Luc, I myself have been 'dead'. Had I not, as my former ship's surgeon so aptly put it, "really gone where no man has gone before", I would likely feel the same way that you do." 

Smiling slightly, Picard acceded, "Very well, I shall endeavor to keep an open mind, but you do have me at a slight disadvantage." 

"Noted. I shall keep my exposition as brief as I can. The meld I had with V'Ger was very traumatic for me. Much of the information that I received through the meld, and I only gleaned an iota of V'Ger's titanic consciousness, had been blocked out by my subconscious. There is simply too much there for even a Vulcan brain to sift through. However, since Jim's death, certain images have persistently intruded upon my thoughts. It has taken literally years of meditation to begin to make sense of them."

"And these images from V'Ger that you had blocked out, they had something to do with Kirk's death on Veridian III?"

"Yes. I believe that some of those images were from what was then the future. Further, I believe that some of the glimpses I saw pertained to Jim's untimely death. There were also impressions of a place where I believe his katra, or soul, now exists and I believe that I know how to reach that place and I am certain that his essence can be returned to what we commonly refer to as the world of the living. I must at least try. After all, he did return my katra to Vulcan to be rejoined with my body, thus bringing me back from the dead." 

Abruptly, Spock concluded speaking. Several minutes passed as the two regarded each other wordlessly. The faint humming of the aquarium containing a lone tiger fish was the only sound.

Finally, Picard cleared his throat and said gently, "Spock, please know that I have an enormous amount of respect for you. You have been, and still are, an admirable and heroic person. But this is all a bit... difficult to... accept. Is it possible that the trauma of that staggering mind meld so long ago distorted your perceptions of the images you recall?"

A trace of a smile appeared on Spock's gaunt features. "Am I delusional? I worried about that myself. After all, my father died of a neurological disease that is hereditary and that is characterized by delusion. However, I had myself thoroughly examined by several Romulan and Vulcan physicians. I have been given a clean bill of health, mentally and physically."

"Still..." Picard hesitated. 

"Jean Luc, in all of our years of traversing the galaxy we have each encountered numerous oddities: the Q, the Talosians, subspace anomalies, living holograms, creatures straight from history and mythology and so forth. Are my memories of the hybrid probe's images any stranger?"

With a sigh, Picard reached for his cooling tea. "I suppose not, " he admitted - very reluctantly.

"May I ask why this has brought you to me?"

Spock leaned forward slightly. "I wish to mount a rescue mission."

"To the afterlife?"

"Essentially."

"To retrieve James T. Kirk?"

"Yes."

The current captain of the latest Starship Enterprise shook his head. He did most certainly wonder if the other man was crazy. "I just don't know, Spock. It all seems so fantastical."

"Once, so did warp drive and transporters. Today we accept them casually."

Picard was at a loss for words. Here sat a living Starfleet legend, a respected diplomat - and a Vulcan no less - who was asking him to buy into a bizarre fantasy. However, he could not deny that he had seen his share of enigmas. Suppose there was something to what he said? It would be a disservice to Jim Kirk to not even try if there was the slightest chance...but, how could there be? He found himself wishing Spock hadn't burdened him with this.

The Vulcan spoke up again. "Jean Luc, I require perhaps only seventy-two hours of your time."

"Seventy-two hours?"

"I believe that will be ample time to accomplish what will be needed to be accomplished."

After some moments' thought, Picard rose and strolled over to his desk. He reached over and tabbed the intercom key. "Number One?"

"Captain?" the voice of his First Officer asked.

"How long until we achieve Earth orbit?"

There was a minute pause. "Forty hours."

"Very good." Picard clicked off. He turned to Spock. "I can give you thirty six hours, no more, I'm afraid."

Spock stood up, bowing his head. "That will have to do."

Picard truly hoped he would not end up regretting this. It still felt like folly. "Now, shall we requisition a shuttle or perhaps the captain's yacht?"

The Vulcan shook his head. "Unnecessary."

"Don't we have to go someplace to begin this quest?"

"Indeed we do. There are a few others I would like to recruit for this expedition."

Picard felt his impatience welling up inside. "Where, then, where are we going?"

Ambassador Spock stepped towards the door. "To a section of your ship that I believe is known as Ten Forward."

End Chapter One

  
  



	2. Star Trek Captains' Quest: Soul Searchin...

Disclaimer: Star Trek is owned by Paramount Pictures, which is owned by Viacom. My use of the Star Trek universe is for entertainment only. Thus, I make no claims of ownership of their property.

  
  


Captains' Quest: Soul Searching

by

David Weathers

Begin Chapter Two

As they rounded the curve of the corridor that led to TenForward, Picard could tell instantly that something was amiss. The sound level was rather more raucous that he was used to hearing on approach to his ship's main lounge. Then he saw the door - a big, thick wooden door with heavy brass handles and hinges - totally inconsistent with the blue-grey metallic interior of his ship. Next to the door was a slightly weathered hanging sign that had never been there before. The sign swung gently back and forth in a breeze that wasn't there.

Picard hesitated. Spock paused beside him.

"Q!" The captain of the Starship Enterprise said under his breath.

The Vulcan shook his head. "No, I can assure you that the Continuum almost definitely had nothing to do with this."

"Almost definitely?"

"I endeavor never to be overly sure of myself." Spock gestured at the swaying placard. "Read the sign."

Picard did as instructed, his eyes widening in surprise. "The Captain's Table?!" He glanced over to read the confirmation on his companion's face. "But how is this possible?"

Giving the Vulcan equivalent of a shrug, basically raising both eyebrows, Spock replied, "I do not pretend to understand the mechanisms of how this establishment functions. I know only, as do you, that The Captain's Table defies conventional physics. It has the almost, dare I say, magical ability to be anywhere and anytime. The interior is always the same tavern, but the entrance could be found on earth or Aldebaran Colony or Rigel IV or another dimension entirely, perhaps anywhere. It appears to exist as a place for captains of all species and time periods to interact, specifically: to exchange stories."

Jean-Luc Picard nodded. "Yes, I have visited it several times, entering from numerous worlds. But why is it here and why now?"

"Because I need it to be."

The bald human shook his head. Like several Starfleet captains he knew, Picard had frequented the legendary Captain's Table. Spock was right, it was magical. It appeared practically everywhere. One might travel down a familiar street on Aldebaran or Argelius and it would suddenly be there, where it had never been before. Or at least the entrance would be. Once you stepped through the heavy wooden doors, it was always the exact same tavern. Later, when you exited through those same doors, you could turn around and it would be gone. No one could explain it. It was a myth wrapped in a legend inside of a mystery. Now, it had somehow replaced the Ten Forward lounge on his ship.

"I'm not sure how I feel about this," confessed Picard.

Spock's face was sympathetic. "Understandable. Yet our journey must begin here and we are on a time schedule."

Picard nodded, but his jaw was set. Spock's friendly little visit was becoming increasingly complicated. "Very well, let's go in." He resigned himself. After all he didn't get where he was in the Fleet by being timid. He didn't have to like it, however.

So, the two men entered the tavern that couldn't be there yet was.

It was rather dark in the Captain's Table - not oppressively dark, but a warm and relaxing dark, broken up by islands of flickering candlelight at each table or booth. The air inside was slightly hazy, yet the haze was both similar and dissimilar to the tobacco smoke haze an Earther might expect from such an establishment - nor was it a narcotic haze that permeated some of the galaxy's seedier pubs. The facility's flavor was completed by the rowdy, though not unruly, sound of voices raised in conversation, song, and laughter. Despite his misgivings about Spock's unlikely mission and the fact that this highly unusual pub having replaced TenForward, Picard found himself relaxing into the ambience of the place.

They navigated through the packed crowd of seated revelers towards the corner of the room. Picard glanced around. Never had he seen such a varied assortment of species, humanoid and not, and representations of sundry time periods assembled in one location. Captains all, the place being an exclusive club of sorts. It was fascinating and damned eerie to see Starfleet uniforms of various eras commingled. Not to mention Breen, Klingon, Romulan, Gorn, and sundry unknown (to Picard, at any rate) races all blended together and chatting away amiably. Were that the universe was as peaceful outside of those wooden doors. 

Jostling through the throng, they eventually arrived at a far corner of the room. Picard noted at once the familiarity of a few of the individuals seated at the oval table. He smiled. One of them, a Starfleet captain of his own era looked up immediately, purple eyes scanning Spock and him quickly and efficiently.

"M'k'n'zy!" Picard greeted warmly, using the native Xenexian pronunciation of his the man's name.

Mackenzie Calhoun smiled sardonically. "Jean-Luc. Seems the Vulcan is more persuasive than I gave him credit for. You'd think I'd know better. I've got two of them, well one and a half, in my crew."

"I can vouch for the persuasiveness of this particular Vulcan," said another at the table. Picard, used to seeing strange things at The Captain's Table, was still a bit startled to see a young and unblemished Captain Christopher Pike seated beside the Excaliber's Calhoun. The famous captain of an earlier Enterprise radiated warmth and good humor. It pained Picard to know that in his future was painful disfigurement. However, beyond his mutilation, blissful life did await Pike on the forbidden planet of Talos IV.

Being an avid history buff, it took the French starship captain only a second to recognize one of the other figures seated at the table. The other stared back at him and smiled a thin but wide smile. He wore a Klingon uniform a generation earlier than those of Picard's contemporaries. "Kor," Picard breathed.

The warrior who butted heads with James T. Kirk over the occupation of Organia, the man who nearly started an intergalactic war inclined his head slightly in acknowledgment. "It seems my reputation precedes me."

Picard made a sour face. "Indeed it does. The infamous Commander Kor. A man who would butcher thousands, millions, if they stood in the way of his subjugation of a world. The icon of one of the darkest periods of the Klingon Empire. It's hard to believe that a tyrant like yourself would wish to join a rescue party to save Kirk."

"Rescue Kirk from hell? Seeing his face when he sees mine! I wouldn't miss it!" Kor's already wide smile widened even more. "It will be glorious!"

"I doubt very much that Kirk is in hell," Picard retorted. "He's a heroic man who has saved billions of lives, very much unlike you."

Kor shrugged casually. "Those qualities that humans see as angelic we Klingons ascribe to our devil."

Spock intervened. "Gentlemen, please. We are teammates on this particular mission. I suggest adamantly that you set aside your differences."

Kor chuckled, but nodded. Picard silently inclined his head in agreement.

There were two others at the table that seemed completely unfamiliar to Captain Picard. One was dressed like an ancient Earth mariner in somber, dark blue clothing. The other was a somewhat disheveled spacer who lounged casually in a chair next to Calhoun. Both were obviously human. 

He glanced at Spock and saw that he was regarding the same pair with curiosity. Apparently he didn't know who they were either. Spock suggested that introductions would be in order.

Pike gestured to the old time seafarer. The man had greying dark hair, intense green eyes, and had on some sort of naval uniform. His face was hard like a statue's, chiseled and set. He had a short, well kempt beard. His shoulders were square and his frame seemed to be thin yet powerful, at least as far as one could tell. He regarded them stoically. "Gentlemen, I'd like you to meet Capatain Nemo."

Picard, recognizing the name of the fictional submarine commander from French writer Jules Verne's Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea, raised his eye brows in surprise. "Nemo? But how can that be? That was just a story. Fiction."

Nemo glanced at him. "Apparently not just a story." He sipped wine from and ornate glass set before him.

The Enterprise captain grinned wryly. "This place never ceases to amaze me!"

Everyone turned to regard the remaining unknown figure. There was a brief yet awkward pause before Calhoun realized that it was his turn to introduce his acquaintance. The purple eyed, Xenexian cleared his throat for attention. "Arriving early, I decided to relax and enjoy the unique atmosphere that this very exclusive club offers. I met this gentleman playing cards with some of the other captains. I sat in for a few hands. Not only is he one helluva card player, but if half the stories he told while playing are true, and my instincts tell me that they are, then he'll make an excellent addition to our rescue party. That said, I'll let him introduce himself."

The semi-scruffy but confident-looking man surveyed the others in Spock's newly assembled team, then said, "I'm Han Solo, captain of the Millennium Falcon." 

  
  


End Chapter Two

Note: As I'd written prefacing this chapter, I claim no rights to any of the copywritten characters whether they belong to Star Trek, Star Wars, or Jules Verne. They use is for entertainment purposes only.

  
  
  
  
  
  



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